


Once Bitten / Twice Shy

by valiantfindekano



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Higemaru Touma has kissed a lot of boys and this is canon I'm sorry I don't make the rules, M/M, Urie is emotionally constipated, implied Urie Kuki/Shirazu Ginshi, this is an underappreciated ship so I'm making the content for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantfindekano/pseuds/valiantfindekano
Summary: “Listen … here’s what you should know.” A cold tone of voice, to match the thermostat setting. Urie fixes his gaze somewhere on the back wall of his bedroom. “I don’t do dating. I’m not going to be anyone’s boyfriend. (Love is out of the question.) So if you try this, you’re just going to be disappointed in the end.”





	Once Bitten / Twice Shy

Perhaps somewhere in the procedural handbooks, there are rules and guidelines for professional working relationships within the CCG. And within those handbooks, Urie is sure there might be a note about the dangers of romantic or sexual relations with your direct superior (or a member of your squad, if you are the direct superior.)

But those aren’t the procedures committed to his memory. They’re not relevant to fieldwork, for one thing, and won’t help him effectively kill more ghoul scum, so there’s not much point reading and taking notes to the point where he can quote exact subsections. Especially for him, because romance and sex have perpetually been off the radar of his priorities.

At least –– they’re supposed to be.

They’re supposed to be.

They’re _going_ to be. (He knows the cost of slipping up.)

It’s an unusual day that sees them flushing out Aogiri agents in the middle of the afternoon. Ghouls aren’t nocturnal, but it seems like darkness tends to embolden them to go creeping outside with their masks and shroud-like clothing. But the squad had a reliable tip-off, ambushing a group outside a hideout in the 12th Ward.

Complete annihilation before 6 p.m. is a reasonable accomplishment.

It makes for a strange evening, though. Urie’s stomach turns as he cuts up meat for their dinner (although it even churns at the smell of plain white rice). As usual, Yonebayashi is no help; he nearly trips over her as she hangs around the kitchen. Aura pisses him off by breathing, although he’s at least dutifully washing all the utensils Urie hands his way. 

There isn’t room for everyone to be here helping, and the tally of the number of times Higemaru has accidentally brushed Urie’s hands, his biceps, his ass … it’s reached double digits. (Halfway there was already too much.)

Urie excuses himself as soon as he’s finished eating, leaving the rest of the washing up for the squad to complete. “I’m taking a shower,” he announces, and even though he means it as a deterrent, he can tell whose attention he’s piqued.

“Please relax and enjoy it, squad leader!” Higemaru flashes a smile.

In tandem, Urie and Hsiao roll their eyes.

But ultimately he ends up following that advice, even if it has nothing to do with Higemaru’s request. It’s actually his third shower today: one in the morning (customary); one after their mission (for removing sweat and blood from the afternoon’s operations). This time it’s just to turn the water up to the highest heat his skin can tolerate, and hope that it burns away some of the tension knotted deep into the muscles of his back and the base of his neck.

It helps.

For all that he appreciates buttoning himself into uniform and going to work, it is nice sometimes to slip on an old t-shirt, soft around the edges from a few dozen cycles in the washing machine, athletic pants rather than tailored slacks, and a navy blue sweatshirt that declares his affiliation to the CCG’s 7th Junior Academy. His hair falls into his eyes now when he doesn’t style and gel it, so that’s not ideal …

Urie is staring at his paints, mentally weighing up the advantages to spending a little time on one of his canvases before he attempts to sleep, when he hears a soft yet deliberate knock on his bedroom door. Saiko probably wouldn’t knock at all, and would simply let herself in, while Aura is too stupid to knock, so it leaves one of the other recruits as options. (It won’t be Mutsuki, either. He and Urie have a wordless and mutual understanding to stay out of one another’s private space. 

Rose hair and a hopeful smile greet Urie, which makes him reconsider his choice to answer. Higemaru is so … 

So _bright,_ sometimes. He’s wrapped into a sweater that’s clearly too big for him, which seems like a waste, given the prominent designer’s emblem stitched near the hem, but that gives him the effect of looking smaller than he is.

“Squad leader, are you busy?”

Urie hesitates long enough for it to be an obvious no. (He blames the fact that he’s tired.) “What’s this about?”

“I wanted to ask what I can do to improve,” Higemaru declares.

It’s hard to find fault with that question, admittedly (even if Urie is sure that his own bedroom isn’t the right setting for them to discuss it). The boy is far from perfect, and could really use some improvement –– physically, tactically ––

“Listen to instructions?” Urie suggests. 

He steps away, but behind him, the door stays open. It’s as close as he gets to making straight up invitations. 

Higemaru takes a few curious steps inside, pausing to look at the canvases lined up by the wall. Urie is glad none of them are in such a state of completion to reveal the subject matter; those are questions he doesn’t want to field right now. (Or ever.)

“I try.” Higemaru frowns as he skips ahead a few steps to get closer to Urie. “But–– you know how it is in the heat of the moment. Sometimes the instructions aren’t …” He flushes, and backtracks. “I don’t mean to say you’re wrong! It’s just that if the plan has to change, I don’t think I’m good at improvising. But you always seem to know how to adapt, Urie-senpai.”

He can say that, Urie thinks, because he didn’t see what it was like _that time._

Something gnaws at the inside of him.

“You were a good student,” Urie says, surprised at the patience in his own voice. “You have to be so confident in your own knowledge that it becomes instinct. The heat of the moment doesn’t matter –– what you learned will keep you alive, if you can do it right.” 

Higemaru’s eyes widen, and he nods. “That’s–– ”

(Don’t say it’s _cool._ )

“That’s why training your body is important,” Urie interrupts so Higemaru can’t finish the statement. “You can know everything there is to know, and it’s useless if you can’t keep up physically. The same goes in reverse. Being physically strong is useless without the tactical knowledge to back it up.”

There’s another nod. Urie isn’t sure if he likes the way Higemaru is looking at him now, with such wide-eyed admiration … it’s not like he doubts his own talent, but he’s aware enough of his own limitations to know when hero worship isn’t justified.

And besides, it reminds him just a little bit of how he used to be able to say absolutely anything (any bullshit) he wanted and Shira––

Urie places a hand on Higemaru’s shoulder, intending to guide him back towards the door and out to the hallway, where without saying so many words, he’ll make the message clear: goodnight, we’re done talking. 

He sees Higemaru’s eyes flicker downwards as he does so. Urie’s eyes similarly flicker lower, and it’s stupid, because he can tell Hige is looking at his lips, which he obviously can’t see himself, but he can mirror it and see the younger boy’s pout. He can also glance up in time to see Hige meet his gaze, and it’s mostly an accident of timing that sends his head tilting left when they lean in.

For some reason, it still surprises Urie when their lips meet.

Higemaru is soft, and tastes like rosewater; he wonders if he’s put on some kind of lip balm, and if he did that because he was anticipating this. It’s slow, careful, and exploratory at first, while Urie’s mind races –– no, it’s more of a languid crawl, isn’t it? –– to catch up. He can hear the sound of their breaths, and open eyes catch Higemaru’s girlishly long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Even with his stupid wide-eyed expressions, he’s undeniably pretty, even if Urie is adamant about having no time for romance.

In fact, he’s usually the type to dodge the embraces his teammates try to throw his way, so Higemaru’s hand steadying itself on his waist while his own hand (he’s forgotten his gloves, he notes with a moment’s panic, and feels like he might as well be standing here naked) still balances on his shoulder is practically electric.

_Deepen the kiss,_ he thinks.

It would be nice to ignore everything for a little while. The kiss feels nice, and Urie’s had so few fucking comforts lately. Less than once a week, he might take an extra hour in bed … but that’s it, that’s all that amounts to an indulgence while his life otherwise churns ahead at a grueling pace.

Higemaru’s hand tightens on his hoodie while the press of his lips gets insistent. Somehow trying to breathe through his nose no longer feels adequate, and Urie is forced to open his mouth and gasp for air, but that leaves an opening for his younger squad mate’s tongue to give a teasing flick.

The fact is, Urie can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he’s been kissed. Forgetting to breathe might be making his head spin, but something that’s more of a feeling than a coherent train of thought forces itself to the forefront.

It’s a feeling that whatever Higemaru is looking for, Urie won’t be able to give it to him (even if he wanted to, and that’s a separate issue, something that he’ll need time to pick over like a case file). A feeling that it’ll only allow him to grow more attached than he already is (bare minimum though he’s permitted himself). 

A feeling that Higemaru in particular, with his reckless, stupid behavior on missions, is likely to end up bleeding and in pieces while Urie screams himself hoarse for it all to stop, stop, stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it

“I can’t,” Urie gasps as he pulls his head away and squeezes his eyes shut. The closed eyes are kind of an involuntary reaction, but he’s glad of it, even so; he doesn’t want to know what Higemaru’s expression looks like right now.

“I––squad leader, I’m sorry,” Higemaru stutters. He takes a step backwards. Urie keeps the thermostat low enough in the chateau that the air feels like a cold punch. “I just … knew I had to try?”

(Idiot; why does it sound like a question?)

“It’s not you,” Urie says, surprised at how nonchalant he can make it sound when his head feels like it’s ringing as loud as the emergency alarm systems in headquarters. “I don’t care…”

He doesn’t really mean it like that, but it’s effective. His eyes reluctantly open in time to see Hige’s expression fall.

“Listen … here’s what you should know.” A cold tone of voice, to match the thermostat setting. Urie fixes his gaze somewhere on the back wall of his bedroom. “I don’t do dating. I’m not going to be anyone’s boyfriend. (Love is out of the question.) So if you try this, you’re just going to be disappointed in the end.”

He knows it’s a jump, to go from one experimental kiss to considering dates and relationships, but what’s the point otherwise? What’s the fucking point of getting close to someone if there’s no goal in sight?

Higemaru is breathing too loudly (Urie has the sudden horrible realization that he might cry, and no, he’s not dealing with that right now!) and fluttering his eyelashes at a rate that would’ve made more sense before the kiss. But what he says somehow manages to cut like a scalpel.

“You’re afraid.” 

Urie can see the pieces falling together, written in the expression on Hige’s face. With his bright colours and games and excited smiles, it’s easy to forget that he can claim one of the Academy’s sharpest intuitions, even though his rank is still low and untested. Still, Urie knows from his own experience that emotion is ignored, even suppressed in Academy lessons. It shouldn’t be that easy for the younger boy to pick up the depth of his fears. (Does that mean they’re obvious? Fuck that …) 

Losing his father had ripped a hole in him, a hole that he’d only been able to stitch back together with perfect scores on exam papers and a vague notion of how to drag his way up the ranks into S3. So what if that was really as shallow as the others had accused? He’d been happy … right? It hadn’t been complicated, at least. 

And then Shirazu Ginshi, with that rare talent of his, had managed to tear it all down. Stupid boy, good for wrecking things and not much else.

Shirazu hadn’t even been his close friend; Urie had been secretly hoping until a matter of minutes before his death to overcome him, to watch him fail and lose the leadership position he’d never been suited for. He’d planned to revel in that. Except then he had to go and _die,_ and his death had still ripped into Urie, cutting through all the paper-thin walls he’d set up to try and protect himself. (And then Sasaki had lit the match and thrown it onto the ruins, cut the sinews of whatever dignity he’d been clinging to, and now here he is staggering along like his hamstrings have been severed.) 

The problem isn’t that he _can’t_ love. It’s that he can’t _let_ himself. There aren’t any whole pieces to give away anymore, if there had been any to begin with. And anyway, it’s too much to worry about right now, after something as insignificant as a kiss.

But Higemaru has just drawn back the curtain and seen how pitiful he really is, and Urie hates him for it, with an intensity that surprises him. (Objectively thinking, Hige hasn’t done anything wrong, and it’s not his fault that his squad leader is a fucking mess of a person, but stress has a way of washing out Urie’s reasonable side.)

“ –– Get the fuck out of my sight,” he hisses.

His eyes are clenched shut by the time the sentence fully escapes his lips, so he misses the younger man’s response. It’ll be bad enough to have the image of his pitying expression from a few moments ago burned onto his eyelids, even without offence and betrayal tossed into the mix. The door doesn’t slam (Hige’s been brought up better than that) but a few seconds after it clicks shut, Urie allows himself to let out the breath he holds.

_Fuck._

Being alone at least allows him to clear his head. For a few minutes, he sits staring down at his hands; without the leather of his gloves protecting them, he knows his fingernails would have gouged half-circles into the skin of his palm.

Saiko will be upset, he reflects. (It’s not her business anyway. She shouldn’t be encouraging Hige, and he knows she does.) Mutsuki would probably be disappointed by this display too, but maybe he would understand; they’ve found common ground before with their propensity for pushing others away, though Urie still isn’t ready to delve into the full irony of how that realization has brought the two of them closer.

He sighs, shoulders slumping as the ragged breath forces its way out.

What he should have protested about was the fact that Hige is good at kissing, which means he’s done this before. (With who?! He’s too young––)

(It’s not that Urie is jealous.) 

(Ah … he’s fucked. He’s so, _so_ fucked.)

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot, but if there's good feedback I'll consider adding more chapters!


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